


Serge and the labour of love

by mortianna



Category: James McAvoy - Fandom, Jessica Chastain - Fandom, Michael Fassbender - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Jessica Chastain - Freeform, Michael Fassbender - Freeform, Threesome - F/M/M, inspired by James McAvoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortianna/pseuds/mortianna
Summary: Try to put stuff here together, as it is tiresome to get the things again at Insta.This is the sequel to three existing parts.Will put up the others if I come to it :-)Well so it begins. Again. A short Vignette I call it in the aftermath of Serge one, two and the epilogue. I should put up the old stuff together somewhere, perhaps I will. The Story began with Serge, the lone bar owner in Avignon, then more and more people turned up, his (Ex) wife, a boyfriend, a brother, a niece, a nephew and after all a father. There is some back and forth, a menage à trois, à quatre, and new pairings. (Goethe, Wahlverwandschaften😎) they all met under the Christmas tree around Christmas. As Ket wished. And they now meet again upon her Initiative and the original idea I owe to her. Thank you so much all who nagged me😘 over there at Instagram.It all began with a Pic of James McAvoy looking like a French singer in my eyes. the rest followed. There came Jessica Chastain and Michael Fassbender and more roles played by James.
Relationships: Serge Dupont/Genevieve Dupont Serge Dupont /Pierre Ricard Frederic Dupont/Genevieve Dupont





	1. one

“Putain de bordel de merde. Let me through. My baby is just being born right now”.  
Pierre jumped through the people making way – after all he was a 1.83 m tall man with features that would have made him able to play a leading role in any nazi movie whatsoever, and he was still so full of the energy that had made him come here from the race he was doing in another country all the way in one go without using the loo in between. Even if he was lying, he believed he needed to be here. There. Well, perhaps not in the exact same room where the wonder of new life was happening under circumstances he rather not watch from too close, but close enough to be with the other father.  
“Where is the – whatsitcalled, the room where babies are born?” he asked the young bored looking woman at the counter of the entrance. “Natural or Caesarean?”, she asked. Pierre looked at her in horror. “No idea.” The woman grinned and chewed her gum. “You are the father, aren’t you?” “Kind of”, said Pierre and could have slapped himself. His instincts had rather taken another direction with racing than with being a cop, reacting in the right way, the way that brought him what he wanted or needed to know, wasn’t part of his daily portfolio anymore, seemed to have hidden deep in his dna. He would have to hone his skills when or if he returned from his sabbatical. But now was not the time…  
“Please”, he said and turned on his most charming smile, the one that could charm people and intimidate them at the same time, he knew, some had compared him to the great monster of the sea, the shark. He quite liked that. A shark was strong and fast and could cope with anything coming into his way. The woman grinned, mesmerized. Her mouth stood open. “You must mean the lady with the many men, then”, she said, “she is quite the talk of the hospital, you know”. Pierre just looked on. “I shouldn’t have said that. But even nowadays this is quite … uncommon. I mean all hail to liberty and all, but…”  
“The name is Genevieve Dupont”, Pierre said with an air as if he was about to bite off her head or kiss her. “If you were so nice to show me the way to the maternity ward as is your job if I understand that right or are you just here to insult your patients, I would highly appreciate that. Otherwise I would just call my officers to have you arrested for sheer stupidity”.  
The woman tried to breathe, got her chewing gum into her respiratory tract and nearly suffocated. Pierre jumped over the counter and bend her over and clapped onto her back until the gum flew out like a projectile. Pierre smiled benignly and stood her upright again. “Where did you say?” The woman reached out her hand and showed with a shaking finger to the sign which said “maternity ward”. “Thank you very much”, said Pierre, jumped back over the counter and ran in long strides into that direction. The woman looked after him and fell onto the chair, breathing hard and sobbing.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet Serge

Serge was running up and down in front of that damn room. He wasn’t here for the first time, there had been a lot of false alarms in the past, the first ones leading to a lot of fear and excitement of the wrong sort, as they had been much too early, Genevieve had even had to stay in hospital for some weeks, but then they had given her something to carry the pregnancy further and she made it quite well. Well, he could say so, he hadn’t been that close, he had slept mostly in the small room in the bar after Pierre had gone onto this racing thing, after the Christmas holidays in that wonderful house in the country, they knew they couldn’t live together in the house, there were too many tempers involved and Pierre had told him he always had wanted to go into racing and with the impending threat of him having to pay for getting Freddy out of jail, they both decided on now or never. Well, Serge knew that Pierre wanted so much to do this and it was only fair that he got his after all he had done for the family that he himself, Serge was being the understanding good guy like he used to and let him go. How was that old saying? If you love something, let it go, if it comes back to you, it is yours, if it doesn’t, it never was? Stupid. But he believed it. And well, even if Pierre or himself was the father to the child Genevieve was pregnant with – and at least Genevieve pretended to be sure of at least that – she had decided to be with Freddy and so well, he lived in the kitchen and came when it seemed he baby was coming. It sounded idiotic, come to think of it. What was he, a fucking saint? Well even that …  
“Serge”. A voice came through his mist of memory. Serge looked up. There was Pierre, much blonder and taller than he remembered him, with a tan and even slimmer than before and that wide grin that seemed to engulf the world. Serge stood up as tall as he was and waited till Pierre was close, with his beaming face and all and hit him. Hard. Pierre looked taken aback and held his arm. “What?” “Don’t do that to me”, Serge wailed. “But you said…” “Don’t believe every word people are saying, Pierre. I thought you were police”. Pierre sighed and pulled Serge closer. “I thought you were being unbelievably kind and goodhearted and all that. Seems it wasn’t true. I’m sorry”. “Well I tried to”, Serge sniffed, “but it was fucking hard to see them together, laugh, kiss, whatever, cry, and be alone in my little hole in the kitchen. It sucked big time. Not meaning that…”


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> together again. Alone for a short time.

Pierre pulled the smaller man even closer and sniffed the smell of his hair. “I missed you so much too”. He kissed Serge on the top of his head. Something had caught in his throat. “But the racing is great”. He grinned again. Serge hit him again, then they looked at each other and smiled. The angry waves around them subsided to a warm fuzzy ocean playing at their feet. “How’s the mother?” Serge shrugged and showed to the door. “They’re behind there. She screamed a bit, then stopped. I hoped someone would come out and tell me something, anything, but … didn’t”. Pierre’s eyes narrowed. “She lets you stand outside here and you allow her to?” Serge waged his head. “Well, you know, it is complicated.” “Complicated my ass”, said Pierre, his eyes deadly slits. “You’re the fucking father. Or I am. Which is the same, as we two are one. I mean, in my absence, you’re double the father. How can they do this to you, us … I will kill them all”.   
“No, you won’t, love”, said Serge, grinning. He had so missed Pierre’s steadfastness, his sureness in things, for Pierre things always were clear as crystal, while to him they were always multifaceted, even the easiest, most simple ones. Usually Pierre was cool and he was the one venting, so if Pierre got that angry so easily, that meant something.   
“Didn’t go so well, the racing?”, he asked and watched Pierre’s eyes turn dark. Wroom, that hit home. “You are quite the perceptive one, chou”, said Pierre biting his lip. “No didn’t”. Serge felt his heart sink, then jump again. “At least you’re alive”. Pierre looked at him, looked into these unbelievably blue eyes that couldn’t hide anything from him. “You really were afraid, weren’t you?” Serge sighed, a long shuddering sigh. “The whole fucking time from the moment you went away. You’re such a reckless driver, love”.   
“Am not”, said Pierre, “well okay sometimes I am. But no, recklessness wasn’t the problem. It was more that I was in the way of the real drivers. And I crashed a lot of cars”. Serge bit his lip. “How many?” Pierre sighed. “A lot, amour, a lot”. “But you’re going back?” Pierre looked at his love. He had been incredibly egotistic to let Serge alone after all he had been through. And Serge had again been the brave little soldier who had trooped on in dire circumstances as he had done all his life. Because he needed to be. “I”, he began, “I…”. The door opened and all hell broke loose.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meet Genevieve. And Frederic.

“You”, Genevieve screamed and would have jumped at the two men, if not the one man who looked a lot like Serge had held her back. Well, her enormous belly should have been enough, the one that let her legs and arms look like sticks, but Genevieve still had her temper, multiplied by the pain and the humiliation that all the pain till now had done nothing to get that thing out of her. And here were the men, in peace and quiet and without pain whose fault that was in the first place. “Oh bloody fucking hell”, said Fred who looked as if he had run a marathon, “high time you came, I have endured this before already, now you can do this for once. I mean, it is yours after all”.   
Serge bit his lip and would have started to jump on his brother and tackle him here and now, the pure unfairness of this after all he had done and after he had been waiting to be let in for hours to no avail and now that, that would have been too much even for the father of Jesus, the human one, but Pierre held him back, Pierre who looked at the other two and his gaze alone did what it always did – calm down the temperature when that was needed.   
A woman in hospital clothes came outside too, looked at the crowd of them and managed to smile. “Just let her walk a bit to get things going, won’t you? It seems to need a bit of persuasion to come out. Quite stubborn, the little one”. “Well, who would have thought”, said Freddy. Everybody looked at him. The doctor or whatever she was didn’t change her expression. “Just let her vent a bit if she needs that .It helps. You know, every woman, even the most shy and sweet tend to hate the man who did that to her in a certain state of labour, you don’t have to take it personal, it’s a good sign really, it shows its going somewhere”.   
“If that is a good sign, this has been going on for some time”, said Freddy and Serge thought now was the time to change players. “And I’m not even the one to blame”. “Well you would be had I not already been pregnant when you turned up again”, said Genevieve, then her face contorted again with pain and everybody tried to do something, anything but couldn’t. Only the woman in the hospital clothes said: “Shsh you’re doing brilliantly, just keep going, and breathe, chou” and Serge took hold of Genevieve to not let her jump on the woman and kill her. “Who is the father?”, asked the woman. “Me”, said Pierre and Serge. The woman gulped. “Okay, who is the husband?”, was the next question. “Me”, said Serge. “At least I think so”. The woman sighed. “Who is going to live with mother and child?” “That would be me, then”, said Fred, “I mean at last I was thinking that. Not so sure anymore. She wanted to kill me just moments before”.   
“Pff”, said Genevieve, “You do that to women. It’s just your aura, you know”. Fred raised his eyebrows, Pierre shrugged and Serge bit his lip to not laugh out loud. The woman looked at the three of them angrily. “This is not a joke, young men. This is called labour for a reason. She has to do the work and it is tough. She already has been going for hours and not much has happened. So in my eyes you have to earn the role as father. Let her walk, hold her, let her scream if she wants to, give her just a bit to drink, but not much, nothing to eat, I’m afraid, if we need a Caesarean after all, hold her, hold on to her, let her breathe, make her feel comfortable and don’t be so pigheaded. Understood?” “Yes, mam”, the three men said together. Genevieve smiled like an angel before her face contorted again. “Oh fucking shit, there’s another one, get your arse here, Serge Dupont, so I can bite into your arm”. “Yes mam”, said Serge again and went to meet his fate.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> birth labour for all of them.

Pierre looked at Fred who came to him like a man who had seen the worst and new it wouldn’t get better anytime soon. Pierre looked at Genevieve, who was cramping her fingernails into Serge’s strong lower arm with the freckles and it hurt Pierre bodily to watch that. He met Serge’s eyes – yes, his love hurt too. But he nodded at him and Pierre nodded too, yes there were things to talk about, but not now, now they had to help Genevieve get through this, and that was Serge’s turn at the moment so he could talk with Fred. There were some more things to talk about. But not here. “Coffee?”, he asked Fred, who on closer view looked nearly as bad as when he had gotten him out of jail. “I have to …”, said Fred and looked at Genevieve who shot him, them, a glance of pure anger. And perhaps despair. Pierre felt something for her, like sympathy, pity even, but he couldn’t take that onto himself, this could only be carried out by the female. Pity. He grinned his shark smile and stroked Fred’s arm. “She’s save. Serge can do whatever you could do and have done. It’s his turn now. You relax a bit or you’ll be a wreck before the child is even born. And then you’ll be in real trouble”. Fred looked at him, then back at the still married couple and bit his lip, then stood more upright and nodded. “Coffee”. “I knew you would see my point”, said Pierre and off they went in search for a cafeteria.  
Serge had never felt that much pain in his life and would have thought he’d had enough to last him a lifetime. The only thing that made it bearable was to know that Genevieve had it much harder and that he was the only one who could even begin to fathom the depth of her pain. He locked eyes with her while she was standing with one hand in her back, the other clinging to the wall as if for dear life and gave her his arm to bite into. She did. And hard. Then it was over, for the moment and they both breathed again. It all came back to him, now, they had done this before and fuck had that gone wrong. “Shouldn’t you be breathing, like naturally, in and out, at this state?”, Serge asked just to get away from the intenseness of their shared memory and her deep deep dark gaze. Genevieve snorted and let go of his arm. He looked at it. Deep bite marks. Yep, just like in them good old times. “Fuck you, Serge Dupont and your ‘shoulds’. I shouldn’t be here at all it’s your fault and…” “You’re fucking afraid”, said Serge putting his arm around her and nudging her to walk. He remembered it, walking was good, or so they had said, not that that had helped in the end. She looked at him, her eyes deep dark pools. “How could I not?”, she whispered, “I mean, it’s all back here. I thought this would be a new experience, did a lot of yoga and meditation and thought with another guy around …” “…who doesn’t look a bit like the old one whose fault it was”, added Serge and really made Genevieve laugh, just a bit, “I thought I could make it, I really did. Serge, I’m not sure I can do this I’m so afraid and it knows that. What if it doesn’t want to live with such a bad mother as I am?”  
Serge breathed deeply and didn’t lose eye contact which made Genevieve breathe deeply in return. Then she bit her lip and tears sprang from her eyes. Serge took her into his arms, as far as that went with her enormous belly between them. “It was not your fault”, he murmured into the wet red hair, “it was nobody’s fault, it was just – sheer damn bad luck”. She turned away and when she looked at him her eyes were angrier still. “If you really believe that you’re even more of a klutz than I thought you were”, she said, her eyes burning with anger, then she bit her lip again and bend over and screamed. “Breathe”, said Serge automatically, wiping away a few tears from his eyes and giving his arm to her to bite into, “in. Out. In out. You can do it. Why don’t you have a fucking Caesarean btw if you’re so afraid? Just asking? Or have a doctor around, nearby all the time? I mean there sure must be … ouch”. Genevieve had bitten real hard this time again and when the pain subsided looked at him and said: “Serge you are such an idiot. I want to do this the right way. With pain and all. Understood? And there are no doctors as nannies here. Let’s get going”. “Yes mam”, said Serge and walked along the corridor with her, along some nosy people looking on, with a gaze of sympathy, he thought, sure there were special doctors for women with that big a trauma, but of course Genevieve hadn’t talked about it with anyone. She always wanted to do everything her way. And let the others pay for it. He sighed. As soon as Fred or Pierre would be here to take his place – if ever they came back, perhaps they had fled to another country already – he would go and look for a doctor to give her that injection he had heard about during that other pregnancy, one that didn’t kill the pain but made you laugh about it. Like drugs. If Genevieve didn’t take that, he would, Simple as that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some things from the past come back at the best possible moment...

Pierre and Fred had found the cafeteria, bought two cups of strong black café and decided without words to get out of the house as long as it was possible. They passed the counter and the girl behind it tried to hide in the wall. Freddy raised his eyebrows, Pierre smirked. Outside they walked a bit apart from the others standing there smoking and Pierre pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Looking questioningly at Pierre, he shook out one, then two. Fred gave a deep shuddering sigh. “Stopped smoking cause she had to. But I think I need one, won’t do any harm. And if it does, fuck it”. Pierre smiled even broader. “That’s the spirit”. The lighted their cigarettes and Freddy inhaled so deeply he nearly fell over. Pierre laughed and held him. Fred didn’t laugh. “Last one perhaps before I go to jail”. Pierre raised an eyebrow. “That bad with Genevieve? And the baby? Look, I know you had nothing to do with that and …” “Oh stop that”, said Fred and puffed away angrily, “it’s not that, I mean I would have rather had her alone but as she so wishes so it shall be, but remember where you found me?” Pierre hadn’t seen that coming. Well, not now. “Vaguely”, he said and puffed away, his eyes slits. Fred gave a deprecating laugh. “Well, I remember it vividly. And your old friend seems to see the time ripe to remind me I’m still his.” “Aha”, said Pierre as if he were only mildly interested in that, but couldn’t hold that for long, “I see”. “Do you?”, asked Fred and seemed to have a hard time to not lash out against Pierre in anger, an effort Pierre admired. “He called in the morning. This morning when we upped and went here after a night of ups and downs. He’s a fucking sadist. Are all police officers?” “Only the ones who served in the legion first”, said Pierre looking deceptively absent minded, an old trick of his from those times; looking like that meant he was deeply concentrated, but Fred didn’t know him good enough to know and so got even angrier, “he said, you escaped him and so he needs me back”.   
“Ah, that were those goons from”, said Pierre, “I didn’t take their – offer – seriously, that’s quite right” “Lovely”, said Fred, now fuming with self-righteous anger, “you didn’t think one jota about me, did you? I mean, what did you think back then?” Pierre directed all the power he had in his eyes against Fred. “Thought of rescuing you. For Serge. Doing good. You didn’t think you could get away without any punishment for your deeds, now, did you? Untimely, yes, but…”.   
Fred looked at Pierre with sunken shoulders. “You’re right of course”, he murmured, “sure. I’m sorry. I nearly had forgotten that the time in jail was not yet the real deal.” “Sent something official then?”, asked Pierre his eyes looking as if reaching for Marseille in the South, to see it for his own, to believe. “Not yet, no”, said Fred and felt slightly relieved even if logically his burden had become heavier just now. Yes, to jail it was, must be, Pierre was right. He only had – tried to forget. Pierre threw down his stump and stomped on it. “Then it’s not urgent yet. Let’s go inside, see if she already killed Serge or if we can still save him”. “Thank you man”, said Fred with tears in his eyes, “you’re always there to set things straight”. “My job”, said Pierre with an evil grin, “let’s get upstairs, quick, the sooner this is done, the earlier I get to – talk – with my dear old friend, the butcher of Hassi Messaoud”. Fred looked at Pierre and gulped. “That’s him?” Pierre nodded grimly. “Yeah, and I shouldn’t have said that. This racing is not good for me. Serge is right”. “Serge is always right, that’s his job description”, said Fred desolate. Pierre clapped Fred on the back. “Don’t start that again. You have the woman, you have the baby, well, partly, now be a man, and not a whining baby still in childhood memories. You have this. Go for it”. “Yes sir”, said Fred and a visible jolt went through him and he clapped the much taller Pierre on the back, awkwardly going for an embrace, but Pierre just clapped him back and went for the lobby again. From afar he could see the girl hiding behind her counter. Pierre grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again, some chapters from insta put together. All sides concerned. the brothers talk. Genevieve is in labour. Pierre is Pierre :-)

They found Serge and Genevieve in the corridor. She was holding herself up against the wall, head down, Serge holding one of her hands and talking to her. His other hand was … “oh the fuck”, said Pierre and his long legs brought him to the pair in two or three steps. Serge looked up to him with hope and longing in his eyes, Genevieve didn’t even see him, she exhaled loudly with closed eyes. Pierre nodded to Serge while watching Genevieve intensely, then grabbed Serge’s arm out of her mouth when she opened it a bit and inserted his own. Then he put his hand over Serge’s holding Genevieve’s and forced it away. Serge looked at him like a puppy. “You go”, said Pierre grimly, then grinning at Genevieve whose eyes grew wide as she recognized Pierre, said: “Hi love! How’s it going? Torturing your old husband again? Take me on if you have the guts for that”. Genevieve’s eyes narrowed as if she was taking stock of her new enemy, then she let go of Pierre’s arm in her mouth. “Brilliant”, grinned Pierre, “you know you can scream as loud as you want here, don’t you, that’s all part of the package. You don’t need to bite anyone to subdue the screaming. And next time you want to bite anyone, we ask the doctors for this needle into your brain was it? Ah back, okay. I saw that on TV. Works wonders. Fancy a walk around this fashionable corridor with me? Thought you could see my point.”   
Genevieve was livid with rage but knew when she had met her master. She had to do this, and yes, she had been quite out of her mind to start with, and these times in hospital, she was scared as fuck and someone had to suffer for that. It was only fair that the men had to suffer too, after all it was their fault. Not. And she hadn’t asked them if they even wanted the child. Fred – he had nothing to do with it at all, but hadn’t he come at that moment, which was Pierre’s doing, she would have stayed with the other two men, so they could do their part too. Fuck, there was another one. Genevieve bit her lip. “That is wrong, I gathered from that TV show”, said Pierre, his voice silken, nodding to the brothers to leave the place, he had this, “you need to breathe. It’s important for the child, you know? In and out. Easy as that”. Genevieve cramped her fingers into Pierre’s hand and her mouth opened. “Okay”, said Pierre, if you need to, bite me”. And Genevieve did.   
Serge looked at his brother and sighed. “Coffee?” “Just had coffee with Pierre”, said Frederic and drew all ten fingers through his hair which had been cut again in the meantime so that the men didn’t look like identical twins on first sight, “but they have these little bottles there for alcoholics”. “Sold”, said Serge and with a last gaze at Genevieve biting Pierre and Pierre talking to her in an inaudible voice, the two brothers walked to the cafeteria, where they bought a small bottle of white wine – white as an acknowledgment of the fact that it was not really drinking time yet – and an even smaller bottle of cognac. They didn’t care for the looks they got – and perhaps there were even some women and men looking at the good-looking brothers adoringly and not as if they looked down on them as drunkards – but went outside into the garden behind the hospital where they sat down on a garden bench, lighted cigarettes and opened the bottles, drinking from one, then interchanging them, drinking again and at last someone began to talk.   
“How was it?”, Serge asked, “are you okay?” Frederic sighed. “Yes I am. Somehow. Hard sometimes. How are you? Can’t be too easy”. Serge felt the old rage coil up inside – he hated nothing more than to be made to feel someone thought they understood him better than himself, like they belittled him and saw what he didn’t see. Genevieve did that all the time. It made him feel like an idiot. He was the one to hold the shit together, no one else did that for him, so they could at least have the decency to not ask for his feelings as if they understood he had those. But suddenly a flash of light went on in his head - that was the old rage. Had nothing to do with the situation. They were brothers and he wasn’t so much older and he needn’t save Frederic, not this time, they were together in this, with the others, and each of them had a right to – whatever.   
“No”, he said, “it isn’t easy. I can’t go on living in the kitchen for the rest of my life. Have you talked about things?” “What things?”, asked Fred and Serge started, but Frederic grinned and said: “Just kidding, sure we did. I mean we had so much trouble with the pregnancy, but we thought about the situation. Living situation. We know we owe you big time”. “Hm”, said Serge, who silently doubted Genevieve had lost a minute of sleep over this. “And did you reach a conclusion?” “Not really”, said Fred, and moved his legs. “I tried to rent the flat above ours , yours I mean, the one between the flat and the atelier, but they just sold it.” “You did”, said Serge, not trying to hide his surprise. “Yeah”, grinned Frederic, “ see, I can do things, big brother”. “Do you have the money for that?”, asked Serge and he would have liked to take that back but couldn’t. Fred looked at him as if he knew what he thought, and well yes, perhaps he did. “I have, actually”, said Fred and took another sip. “I earn quite some money on the Internet”. “What?”, asked Serge and had certain images before his mind instantly, “and Genevieve allows that?”


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> again, some chapters put together, now it really gets going...

To Fred’s honour we must say that he burst out laughing instead slapping his brother. “She does actually. But it’s not for her to decide on my work, is it? I mean, did she decide for you?” “Often”, said Serge but come to think of it, no, she hadn’t, he hadn’t given her the chance in the important things, or else she would have. “You’re lying. She just means well and yeah, she can be quite over the top. And I don’t do anything with women on the Internet”. “Ah”, said Serge who was totally not in the mood to talk with his brother and now lover of his wife about said wife, “what are you doing then?” “Nothing you would understand”, said Fred and lifted his arms in the air, made a face and lighted another cigarette. “You think it’s safe in there?”, asked Serge. When had he become the one who posed the questions? He scratched his head and also lighted another cigarette. 

Fred smirked. “Perhaps safer for us outside here than in there but yes”. Serge grinned too. “True that”. “I hate to admit it but your lover is perhaps the best for her now. In this situation”. “No, he isn’t. He’s good at not letting her go too far. That’s possibly good, but not best for her”. “And you know why that is so, don’t you?”, asked Fred and looked at his brother. Who nodded, deep in thought. “He possibly was never really in love with her. I mean, he took her as an extra, but he was never totally into her like ...” “…we are. Were. Whatever”, said Fred. Serge nodded again. “And that’s why he can help her doing this without too much ado, but she needs some emotional help and understanding, too, so she needs …” “…us”, said Fred. And Serge got up. “Let’s get back there, shall we? How long can that go, anyhow?” He knew the answer. And from all three men concerned he was the only one who had already been in such a situation. In one which turned out bad. So yes, they were all needed for the situation – Fred as the actual lover, himself as the one who had been with her in this situation before and survived and knew the fears that made it all so much worse and Pierre who simply – simply? – played the part of understanding but relentless coach. Serge pulled his brother up to his feet too and they drank the last drops and extinguished their cigarettes. What was that old saying? It needs a village to raise a child? This child had three villagers around mother and child even before birth. The two men went back to the maternity ward. Nothing was solved yet, but there was a sense of hope. That and that of impending doom...

When they entered the corridor, it was empty. Well, not empty but no flaming red hair, no woman whose enormous belly in the fetching gown of the hospital seemed ready to explode, no tall man hiding or strangling her. Gone. Fred and Serge looked at each other, their faces a mask of horror each. “That doesn’t bode good”, said Serge around the sudden lump in his throat. “What can it mean, Serge?”, asked Fred and grabbed Serge’s arm, who suddenly was the big brother who knew it all to him. “Possibly that the labour has gone into another stage and they have carried her into the room to look for it. Or they…” “carried her off for a Caesarean”, said Fred glumly, “she so hated the thought”. Serge nodded and exhaled deeply. Not into the images, not now, he needed his head now. “Perhaps she has only bitten Pierre one time too many and they have taken him to make some stitches”, he said trying for a light voice. Fred looked at him in horror. “You can’t mean that”. “No, I don’t. But no use in going into thinking now. Let’s do something. Always better”. With that Serge knocked at the door from which Genevieve and Fred had emerged earlier. A woman looked out at them after a short time. Serge had banged really hard. “Ah, the other fathers. Come in”, she said and opened the door to them. Fred and Serge looked at each other, took a deep breath and entered.

Serge bit his lip. It wasn’t worst case, thank whomever, far from it, but the pics kept flooding his tormented brain. Genevieve was now strapped to that chair that played a role in so many fantasies but was rather the horror to look at in reality, especially when you had his experience of the worst outcome possible. Genevieve had her knees pulled up to nearly her breasts, her face was contorted and she exhaled in the short breaths that told Serge that this was not really it but close and therefor she shouldn’t press or whatever the softer word there was for this nowadays yet but wanted, felt the urge to do just that. Pierre was close to her, his one hand in both of hers, and was talking to her in such a low voice that they could only hear the low rumble but not make out words. Perhaps real words weren’t needed, none that made sense anyhow.   
Genevieve’s lower region, the part where the action was, was covered by a cloth thankfully and from under this cloth another person turned up now, looking at the brothers and said: “More fathers? Wash, over there, pull over one of those plastic aprons and come back. We had a fall in the heartrate of the child, It has to come out now in the next minutes or we go into surgery”. Serge felt his knees make way under him but he was held by a strong arm. “Alright”, said Fred and pushed him to the wash basin, “we can do this, come on Serge” and Serge awoke from his stupor. Yes, he could, because he must. Genevieve had to do it too, again, and she had the much harder part. Perhaps.

“We gave her an injection that really made the things going”, one of the two medical personnel said, Serge had always thought they talked too much about things he didn’t really want to know and too little about the stuff he needed, but this was not about him here, but should Genevieve be hearing this? Again? “But then the heart rate dropped, which means there’s something wrong but we have this here”. “What?”, asked Serge and such a wave of anger hit him he could have died of a stroke, he was sure that was how it felt, or a heart attack or jump onto this person who said such things in such a tone, but again Fred was there and held him. “Why don’t you run for a Caesarean then?” “Because she doesn’t want to”, said the person in that voice again, like talking to a petulant dumb child, he would kill her after all, but perhaps not just yet, “and the situation is not that really urgent now. But we had to really go hard on the inducing stuff, I’m afraid”. “Go as hard as you need to”, said Pierre and Serge now looked at him, his teeth deep into his lip, “but get this thing out of her in one piece and soon or…” “That’s what we’re doing, chou”, said the one woman while the other delved between Genevieve’s legs again. All the men breathed hard, while Genevieve’s face contorted again and the person said: “Okay, no pressing still, breathe like before, but I can see it I think, so just one more and then it begins”.


End file.
